


Souvenir

by EruditExperimenter



Series: Saboteur [6]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Gen, Tattoo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 14:46:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EruditExperimenter/pseuds/EruditExperimenter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A memory gilded with red and gold<br/>Beauty guarded and never sold<br/>I keep it with me wherever I go<br/>And I love you still<br/>No matter how a story will unfold<br/>You know I always will<br/>Have a part of you here in this souvenir</p>
            </blockquote>





	Souvenir

"[Is this your first tattoo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SS4Be92cFl4)?"

"After a fashion.  Like I discussed with you, it’s a cover-up job of…an unfortunate decision on my part."

"No kidding.  Did someone  _brand_  you?”

"Yes."

"That’s…awful."

"It was.  In all honesty, it is merely a thread in a great tapestry of many terrible things.  But I’m here to at least pry this one up and pull it loose."

"I’ve had clients come in for this kind of thing before.  We’ll get you through this."

"I know.  Your reputation precedes you.  There was a young lady I met who had some work done on her right arm…stargazer lilies."

"Oh, yeah!  She had an accident that severed her arm just above the elbow.  I really liked working with her.  So, I just wanted to go over the design I came up with.  I know I had a rough for you last time, so let’s have a look at the final and make sure it’s what you want."

"It looks perfect."

"We’re using purple for the hyacinth, two sorts of carnations - some solid pink and some with red and white stripes?"

"Yes.  It has a meaning."

"I thought it might.  We keep a dictionary here with the flower language in it.  Does this have anything to do with why you have that brand?"

"In a way.  It’s…complicated."

"Mm.  Let’s get you prepped.  I’ll have my assistant make the transfer.  I’m not really sure what to tell you about how it feels.  Everybody asks.  If it’ll hurt or whatnot, I mean.  And, y’know, it’s not gonna be licked on by kittens or anything, but I can’t really say because it differs from person to person.  Sometimes it can hurt more when you’re working on scar tissue like this, but it’s not always the case.  I guess what I  _can_  advise is that you relax.  Think of the sensation like a living thing.  If you tighten up too much, it’s like trying to hold onto a wild animal that doesn’t wanna be held or gripping a garden hose so it builds up pressure.  Just relax and let it flow through you.  Okay, let’s put the transfer on and tell me what you think of the positioning.”

"That looks just fine."

"Great!  Okay, let’s get started.  Just lay on your stomach and relax.  I don’t think this should take too long."

"Do you enjoy your work here?  Are you what you want to be?"

"Oh, yeah!  I mean, I didn’t really have a whole lot of options growing up.  Finishing up high school, my grades weren’t good enough for college scholarships and I didn’t really like the idea of owing a ton of money and being a debt slave for the rest of my life, so I didn’t go that route.  Could have been interesting, and maybe I wouldn’t be here if I had.  But I don’t mind.  Anyway, my family needed me around to help out.  I’d always loved drawing and I happened to meet somebody in the tattoo business who took me on as an apprentice.  I did that when I wasn’t working and hey, presto!  Now it’s my full time job.  I don’t have a regular pay check like a might working in a cubicle, but I save up for the lean times.  Ah, here comes the buzz.  You’re never going to forget this sound for the rest of your life."

"Hnn…that…or the feeling I suspect."

"Just don’t tense up and we’ll be fine.  You’re doing great so far.  I really like doing this kind of artwork.  Reminds me of being a kid planting nasturtiums and California poppies with my cousin."

"Oh?  Are those good memories for you?"

"Yeah.  I remember running all the way to his house when I first saw the sprouts coming up.  The poppies stuck around forever.  The mint, too, when we planted that.  Jeez, the mint grew like  _gangbusters_.  It was nice, though.  It helped cheer up the yard.”

"Those plants do tend to linger."

“I think maybe he gave me those because he knew they’d stay.  He didn’t.  Or couldn’t, maybe.  Anyway, I can’t smell or taste mint now without thinking about him.  It’s one of those sad, happy things.”

"Bittersweet."

"Yeah.  Jeez, I’m yammering up a storm.  Sorry - I don’t mean to spill my guts like this.  You can talk, if you want to.  I don’t mind - it doesn’t distract me."

"Oh, I’m not really one for words.  Actually, if you could keep talking, I think it would help keep my mind off things and help me focus on not twitching around too much."

"Whatever makes this easier for you."

*

"Alright, so basically, you’re going to treat this like you’re treating a burn.  Also, make sure you take care of yourself internally - take vitamins, drink plenty of fluids, eat a healthy diet.  Okay?  Doctor’s orders."

Offering the man a jocular smile, the artist held out a sheet of paper with after care instructions on it.

"I’ll follow them to the letter," he assured her, handing over a small stack of cash along with a sealed envelope.  "Your fee, as agreed upon, and a modest tip."

Looking the envelope over, the young woman glanced up to her client with a sardonic grin.  ”Fancy!” she laughed.  ”Did you seal this with _wax_?”

"Mm.  What can I say?  I’m a man born in the wrong age."

"You’re downright Victorian," she teased, looking down to crack the seal and examine the contents of the envelope.  "I always wondered about the Victorians making bouquets that looked beautiful but had some secret back handed compliment or nasty meaning attached to—hey, what is this?"

She’d expected, perhaps, more money or maybe a thank-you note.  Occasionally, the artist got creepy notes professing undying love or lewder sentiments, but this guy didn’t seem the sort.  Looking up for explanation, however, she found her client had already gone.  Frowning, her eyes flicked down to the contents she had withdrawn.  Flipping through a handful of the pages, it appeared to be contact information to a law firm as well as information concerning what appeared to be a bank account and a number of deeds.  Brow furrowing with increasing consternation, her puzzlement reached a crescendo at the neatly penned words on the delicate stationery that made up the final page.

_I know this cannot make up for what should have been but never was.  However, I hope that it can at least provide you with what you need to make whatever future you want.  Even if I cannot be there to see it._

_I did not want to go, but now I feel it would be wrong for me to return._

_I love you, Mia._

_I am sorry._

*

Sergio sat back in the driver’s seat of his Bentley, exhaling at length as he switched off the holographic disguise projecting over his features, feeling the rawness of his newly acquired artwork.

He did not start back to the facilities at StrexCorp for a very long while.

**Author's Note:**

> Mia and Sergio belong to EruditExperimenter. Sergio can be found portrayed at eruditexperimenter.tumblr.com  
> The lyrics used in the summary are taken from Spanish Doll, by Poe from the album Haunted


End file.
